“No, it’s not good. Decent people who have little precious time to themselves are wasting it trying to find you. I’ve never met a more selfish boy in all of my life.”
He frowned, not liking her tone or words. About bloody time someone told him the truth. She inched closer. If she latched onto his arm, could she drag him back? The boy would fight, for he hated being forced to do anything. Plus his screams and shouts might draw the attention of the wolf.
She paused nearby. “Oliver, can we discuss this in the safety of the house?”
He sniffed, the stubborn tilt of his chin wavering. “I merely wanted to go with Father.”
Beth’s heart softened. No matter how wretched, no matter how independent, the boy still needed his parents. Needed to know he was loved.
“I understand, my dear,” she said softly. “But please, we must return.”
He kicked a stone, sending it skidding into the creek with a small splash. “He never spends time with us, you know. He hates us.”
She managed to get close enough and rested her hand on his shoulder. “Of course he doesn’t.”
“He does!” He jerked away and stumbled back out of reach. “He’s always gone, and when he’s here he’s locked away in his chambers.”
Unnerved, memories of that fateful night flashed to mind… Mrs. Turner telling her to return to her room, bolting that door while Nate screamed out in pain. Beth glanced back at the estate. What secrets did those rooms hold?
“Always too busy for us.” Sniffling, he rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “Never any time.”
As much as she wanted to hold the boy, tell him all would be well, they hadn’t time. They could discuss his feelings back in the safety of the house. She couldn’t let him escape again, she’d never find him in these woods. Beth reached out, grasping his wrist with a tighter grip than she’d like. “I’m sure he wants to be with you, but he has many responsibilities.”
“Exactly!” Her hands were muddy and damp, and he easily slipped from her grip. “Which is why I want to help him. He’ll have more time for us then.”
“Oliver, you can’t—”
“It’s all right, Mrs. Church.” He bolted down the creek, stumbling and sliding along the muddy bank in his haste to get to his father. “You’ll see.”
“Oliver, no!” Blast it, where were the footmen to help when she needed them? “At least wait for me!” Beth scooped up her sodden skirts and raced after him. She should have dragged him back to the house when she’d had the chance but those sad eyes had gotten to her. “Tis very dangerous out here!”
“I don’t care. I’m brave.”
He darted in and out around boulders, a tiny shadow of a lad. When he came to a patch of thorny vines, he was forced to pause. And that’s when Beth acted.
She lunged forward and latched onto his arm. “I’m sure you are.”
He struggled in her hold, twisting, turning against her. “Let go!”
“No! You’re being ridiculous.” She jerked him close, hugging his small body to her. “You can speak with your father when he returns. I will not relent, and if I have to tie you down, or have the footmen carry you home, so be it.”
The boy deflated, sinking into her. “But … he never wants to speak with me.”
Her annoyance fled as quickly as it had arrived. They merely wanted attention, needed to know they were important, they were cared for. “Oh, Oliver.” Beth rested her chin atop his head. “Of course he wants to speak with you. He’s just not feeling well right now.”
The boy sniffled, pressing his face into her shoulder. “I just wanted to make him proud.”
“And he is. I promise you.” She brushed his hair back from his face. Oddly enough, she realized she would miss them when the time came for her to leave. “Now, come along. I’ll have cook make you some hot chocolate, and perhaps a biscuit or two is needed.”
His face brightened. “Really? But we’re not supposed to have it before bed.”
She should have started with hot chocolate and biscuits. She would store that away for future use, if she had a future here. With a sigh of relief and resignation, she took his hand. “It will be our secret.”
He grinned, the arrogant rake back as his anger and hurt faded in the face of a chocolatey treat. By tomorrow morning, he would be well, even if she wouldn’t. “What do you say?”
He nodded. “All right.”
Together they turned toward the creek. The woods were even darker now, black and shadowed. But she could see the gray field beyond, and even further the lights from the castle glowed warm and inviting. A mere few more steps. “Just don’t tell your brothers that I allowed…”
A low growl vibrated the very air around them, coming from everywhere at once. Beth froze. Oliver whimpered, pressing tightly to her side. She’d imagined it. Surely she hadn’t heard the rumble.
The growl reached her again, this time louder, closer, behind her.
Terrified, Beth turned her head and stared into the eerie yellow eyes of a wolf.
****
“The hills would be best,” Mr. Roan said. “They like to use the crest as a look out.”
Nate sat quietly upon his mount, giving no opinion. Half the stuff they spouted was complete and utter nonsense. He would bide his time. They would tire soon enough and when they went home, the real hunt would began.
“Shall we try the hills?” Mr. Beller asked, glancing at Nate for confirmation.
“By all means.”
They turned their mounts and he started to follow, but the air shifted and with the breeze came a scent he knew all too well…the scent of the beast. His horse shifted, whimpering. Hell, the wolf was near.
He prayed Allen would never make a move as stupid as attacking a hunting party. The farmers might be simple, but not even Allen would survive the blast of fifteen guns. Nate kept his face expressionless even as he nudged his mount to the side, away from the party. If Allen followed, he might be able to dispose of the body before the others understood what had truly happened.
“Go on. I’ll head toward the trees.”
“My lord, you really shouldn’t go alone.”
“Mr. Beller, I’ve never really cared much for the advice of others.” He was barely concerned with Beller’s flushed face and the wary sidelong glances from those around them. No, he was too focused upon the three footmen scouring the field below…too far away for the other’s to notice, but he did. What the bloody hell were they doing in the field when he’d demanded they stay inside? Damnation! He reached for his waist, feeling the cool, reassuring pressure of the pistol.
“My lord,” Mr. Roan started. “We should—”
“Go without me,” he demanded, nudging his mount downhill. The animal inside him roared to life as he spurred his horse forward. The wolf was near. Allen’s scent was strong. Too strong. He was closer than Nate had first believed.
What the hell was the pup doing? What was his agenda? Nate slowed as the trees came into view. Sweat gathered between his shoulder blades, the beast inside reacting to the excitement and anxiety of the chase. He raked his hair from his face and surveyed the field. The footmen were calling for someone…
He closed his eyes and focused, listened.
Oliver.
“Hell,” he growled, jerking his head toward the woods.
Oliver couldn’t have left the estate. No. Yet even as he denied the possibility, he knew the truth. Fear sent his body trembling with the need to change. He would not. He would retain control of his true form. He hadn’t spent years practicing. He wasn’t weak like Allen.
“Lord Brimley!” one of his footmen called to him from across the field.
Nate slid from his mount, sent a silent plea for the animal to flee so it wouldn’t be attacked, and slapped its rump. The animal took off toward the house. He knew Allen would not follow the horse. No, he had something else in mind…Nate’s son.
Slowly, he made his way toward the woods. In the distance he could sti
ll hear the footmen calling for Oliver. He ignored their calls, ignored the pulse of his muscles, the tremble of his body, the whisper of the beast deep within. Instead, he focused on the scents. His son was within those dark trees somewhere…he knew it. And so was Allen.
He paused where the trees sprouted from the earth, providing a wall between open space and the mystery of the forest. Taking in a deep breath, he closed his eyes. A familiar scent caught his senses immediately … Allen. Oliver wasn’t as strong, but it was there. But further away… someone else.
Nate frowned, stepping closer to the trees. Something feminine, floral… Mrs. Church. Hell. His gaze opened, and Nate dove into the trees. His heart hammered in his chest, his veins heated. They would not die…not while he lived. Nate leapt over a fallen tree, bounding across the creek. His body thrummed, the beast within roaring to life.
He would not change.
He would stay true.
A scream ripped through the air, raising the fine hairs on Nate’s neck.
Mrs. Church.
Nate veered right, following the sound. Their scents grew stronger. The murmur of the creek invaded his senses, covering the cries, but it didn’t matter. He’d found them. There on the other side of the creek the governess hovered protectively over Oliver.
Oliver.
Dear God, Oliver.
He tore his gaze from the two and focused on the shadows. He found Allen easily, his amber coat shimmering under the moonlight that managed to pierce the canopy above. He stood upon a rock near the creek, his hunches lowered as he prepared to attack. He’d have their throats torn out within moments.
A hare scurried from under a log, racing into the underbrush. Nothing else moved. “You don’t have to do this, Allen.”
The wolf lifted his lips into a snarl, but didn’t take his eyes from Mrs. Church and Oliver. He knew Nate was there, but he didn’t care. The power he felt, the desire to hunt, to kill, overrode any good sense…any humanity.
“Look at me. Find yourself, the real you,” Nate called out, sloshing through the creek to get closer. “You’re still there.”
He knew Allen would attack even before the wolf leapt.
“Nathan!” Mrs. Church cried out in warning.
Nate raced forward at the same time that Allen jumped. If he failed, they would die. Nate hit the wolf, his hands sinking into the animal’s thick fur and holding on tight. They fell to the ground with a thud that jarred his human body and sent the pistol tucked into his waistband bouncing across the ground. Allen’s head jerked toward him, his jowls snapping in outrage, those eyes burning with an intensity that made them glow.
“Damn you!” Nate hissed. “Stop!”
The beast threw his head back, knocking Nate off balance. A sharp rock sliced through Nate’s sleeve as he landed on the ground. He hardly felt the pain. No, he was too focused on saving his family. Nate growled, and lunged forward. With the strength of ten men, he took the animal’s neck in a tight, choking grip and wrapped his legs around his stomach.
“The pistol!” he cried out.
Allen’s muzzle snapped down on Nate’s arm. If he would have been human it would have broken the bone, as it was the mutt merely tossed Nate through the air. He hit a boulder and slumped to the ground. The trees above him spun.
He would not change.
By God, he couldn’t change…he wouldn’t be able to control himself if he turned, and who knew what he would do, who he would hurt. Nate tucked his elbows underneath him and pushed up as much as his broken body would allow. A cracked rib and four fingers, perhaps more. Warm blood trailed down his arm where the rock had cut the skin.
Slowly, he focused his gaze. Allen stood only ten feet from him, his lips lifted into a snarl that seemed more a smirk. Did he know what he did? As a human and as a wolf Allen enjoyed the chase. Enjoyed the kill. Maybe there was no hope for the man.
Hell, Nate had two choices…change or he and his family would die.
Allen lowered, preparing to leap. Nate knew in that moment he had to turn.
A loud blast rang through the air startling him. Allen cried out, stumbling to the side. For a shocked moment Nate merely lay there too stunned to move. But as Allen collapsed, his body still and unmoving, Nate’s gaze jumped to Mrs. Church.
She stood there with her arms raised, the pistol clasped tightly in her hands like a warrior, a guardian angel sent to save his wretched soul. His gaze shifted to Oliver who sat protected behind a fallen log some ways back. Dear God, Mrs. Church, the meek little mouse, had just saved his bleedin’ life?
“Father!” Oliver leapt over the log and raced toward him.
Nate caught the boy, holding him close even as pain rippled through his broken body. The child had never smelled so sweet, felt so bloody warm and good. He didn’t want to let go. Mrs. Church still stood there, staring wide-eyed at the wolf. He glanced back at Allen. The fur was fading, his elongated face shortening. Slowly, the wolf was morphing back into a human being. A naked human. Shite, he had to get them out of here before they realized what was happening.
“Is it… dead?” Oliver asked.
“Yes.” He gripped Oliver’s head in his hands to keep him from looking. “Listen, did you see anything? Did you see the wolf die?”
Oliver shook his head. “No, Mrs. Church made me hide.”
“Good lad.”
Nate’s gaze shifted to the governess. Beth stood there shocked, horrified. A glance at the wolf and Nate knew why. Allen had completely transformed back into a human, a naked human with a bullet wound through his chest. It had happened quicker than he’d hoped. Perhaps she couldn’t see in the dark. Yes, she’d know something had happened, but maybe, if Nate was lucky, she didn’t realize Allen was now human.
“My lord?” a footman called from the edge of the woods.
Nate pushed the boy toward the man. “Oliver, go with the footmen.”
“But—”
“Now!”
“Yes, Father.” The lad scampered up the hill toward the field. Nate managed to stumble to his feet. His body ached, a cracked rib pressed painfully into the muscle, his fingers crippled. With the back of his uninjured hand, he swiped the sweat away from his eyes and made his way toward Mrs. Church, who still stood staring at Allen.
He reached out with his good hand, and grasped onto her upper arm. Still, she didn’t move, merely stood there staring. Nate slid his hand down her arm and took the pistol from her grip. He’d seen that look upon many a soldiers’ faces the first time they killed. “Listen to me and listen well.”
Her gaze finally went to him. He recognized the shock, he’d seen it all too well in war. “I…I don’t understand. I don’t understand how you can still be living. I don’t understand how…how…that…that wolf turned into him.”
“Listen to me.” He stepped in front of her, blocking Allen from view, and rested his hand on the side of her face. “Listen. You will take Oliver and return home.”
She merely stared at him.
“Go! Beth, take Oliver and return home now. And for God’s sake, don’t speak a word of this to anyone. Do you understand?”
She stumbled back a step and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. Shite, she was going to be sick, he could see it on her face. “I killed him. I killed him and the constable will wish to speak with me.”
“No, as far as anyone is concerned, I shot him.”
Her startled gaze went to Nate. “But why? Why would you take the blame?”
“Because I’m a lord and therefore they will be less likely to question me. Because…because you saved my son.” Because he cared about her, damn it all, and he hated seeing her afraid and vulnerable. “Besides, I can’t afford to lose another governess. Now go!”
She hesitated only a moment, then spun around and raced up the hill toward Oliver. Already he could hear the shouts from the footmen, the thunder of hooves from the approaching horses. The farmers would have heard the gunshot. He needed to come up with a story and fast.
Seeing him injured, near death, they would believe he had acted in self-defense. With a grimace, Nate leaned back against the boulder and slid to the ground.
Hell, why couldn’t anything in his life be easy?
Chapter 8
Beth had been standing outside Lord Brimley’s study for a good five minutes before she finally dredged up the courage to knock. Some ten minutes ago she’d been summoned by Mrs. Turner. Although she should have been in bed as the world had long since retired, she was still awake. But then how could she sleep after the attack? How could she dare close her eyes when nightmares of men and wolves kept invading her dreams?
“Enter,” he called out, his voice calm, demanding.
Beth gripped the cold, porcelain handle and turned. The door squeaked open in protest, the only sound in the silent castle. Everyone else had found slumber. Yes, they could rest because they didn’t have dreams of blood dancing in their heads.
Dear Lord, she was going to be charged with murder…again.
Lord Brimley stood still as a statue near the windows, and although his back was to her and she couldn’t read his features, she knew he was as restless as she. The very air vibrated with tension. He wore a fresh white shirt and buff trousers, his hair was still damp indicating he’d recently had a bath. In the air, mingling with the scent of burning coal, was the smell of masculine soap and clean body. A warm, comforting scent. At any other time, under any other circumstance, their midnight meeting would have been highly inappropriate.
“Close the door,” he stated.
She did as he told, then waited, wondering. It was too intimate…in this chamber here with him this late at night when the rest of the world slept. She should have refused, should have feigned sleep when the tired housekeeper had appeared with a note from Lord Brimley. She should have snuck away from the estate when she’d had the chance, escaped into those very woods where she’d killed a man. But she’d been too stunned by the events, she hadn’t been thinking clearly enough. Now, it was too late.
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